Breaking the Iron Wings
by ShonenChicoBoy
Summary: Scars have stories. This is the story of how Cang Du got his. (A WA Broken Object Contest entry).


_Beijing, 1908_

His first memory was of mulberries. The delicate, colorless clusters swayed in the breeze high above him, framed by the spreading branches—the latticework of pale leaves and gossamer gobs of silkworm nests— that cut the sky beyond into bright squares of iron gray. Lying on the ground around him were the scattered berries and leaves that had snapped off from the weight of the morning rain. He fingered the smooth, white mulberry he had found before placing it in his mouth, sampling it delicately. There was only bitterness, the sting of disappointment, and he spat continuously to rid himself of the taste.

"First-son," his mother called. He could hear her clipped, short steps as she picked her way through the garden on bound feet, the silk of her robes brushing against itself as she searched for him. Aware of the mud-stained state of his jacket, Cang Du jumped guiltily at her voice. He stood perfectly still under the mulberry tree, as though remaining motionless would shield him from detection. But then she spotted him. Meijing's delicately arched eyebrows furrowed, and she marched across the garden and took him by the ear.

"You know that your father is coming, and this is where I find you?" she asked. Her tone was sharp, tense, but not unkind. "Come, quickly, you must change your _tangzhuang_ before he arrives." Cang Du resisted at first, but he was at last led back to the house, where he was promptly entrusted to Yunjia, one of his mother's servants. As her rough hands helped him out of his muddied jacket and into new clothes, scrubbing at his face to rid it of dirt and grass stains, his mother instructed: "Make sure you address him respectfully, and only if he speaks to you first."

"But I don't want to talk to him," Cang Du protested.

"He is your _father_ , first-son. You must." Her tone, while firm, conveyed horror that her son should be so willful. "Come quickly now."

Cang Du dragged his feet as he followed his mother to the front of the house. They passed through corridors lined with latticework windows, the slight wind filling silk curtains that hung between ornate wooden support pillars. He could still hear the bright, warbling song of the chimes that gossiped from the corners of the eaves as they entered the main courtyard.

Cang Du's father stood amidst an entourage of servants and porters. Having just arrived, he was surrounded by the crates, luggage, and other paraphernalia of travel, although he seemed to float above the relative chaos. Hands folded in his sleeves, he was smiling easily at something a silver-haired man next to him had said.

"Welcome home, husband." Cang Du's mother bowed to the proper depth as she greeted him demurely. His father looked up, and while his expression did not change, there was something that hardened behind his narrowed eyes, even as he grinned wider.

"My wife, Meijing, and son," he explained to his guest. The man acknowledged them with a brief nod. "This is master Shi Hongli, from the delegation."

"We are honored to have you as our guest," his mother continued formally, "Won't you stay for tea?"

"That would be much appreciated," he agreed, "Although your husband and I have unfinished business left to discuss." His steely gaze turned upon Cang Du, who reached reflexively for his mother's skirts and shrank behind them.

"Come now," his father said, interrupting the unpleasant silence, "I have something for you," he told Cang Du. He motioned to one of the servants, who brought out a narrow wooden box. Cang Du accepted it warily. When he slid the lid open, he found that it contained a die cast set of pewter warriors. Fumbling with his small hands to balance the weighty gift, he selected one of the horsemen and held it up, examining the figure closely.

"A handsome set. A Qin dynasty replica?" the stranger, Shi Hongli, asked his father.

"It is," he replied without looking at the man. He placed his hand on Cang Du's head. "Well? What do you think?"

What Cang Du thought was that his father's hand seemed heavy— there was ice beneath his touch— and that his constantly smiling eyes, so narrow that they were nothing more than slits, reminded him of a snake that had just snatched up its prey. Yet his father did not seem to be looking at him. Rather, it was as if finding only emptiness, he stared straight through him. Cang Du's fingers tightened around the model, clinging to the metal desperately, and he gaped at his father, speechless.

"Do you like it?" he asked after Cang Du made no response.

"I… " he started, but found that his words caught in his throat before he could form them.

"What he means to say is that he is very pleased, and grateful that his father should be so thoughtful," Cang Du's mother cut in hastily. She reached up to finger the silver hairpin she wore without thinking, a habitual, barely noticeable gesture.

"I see," And his father's permanent smirk widened ever so slightly.

— 鐵 —

Upon his father's suggestion, the four of them moved to the reception hall. Meijing dutifully served the men tea from blue and white porcelain _gaiwan_. The china clattered against the wooden serving tray, and wisps of steam curled into the cool, humid air. Cang Du was seated across from Shi Hongli, and he peered curiously at the stranger. Shi Hongli perched stiffly on the edge of his seat. His jaw was set sternly, and his keen eyes darted back and forth, as though he were constantly analyzing those around him. His starched white collar contrasted starkly with the dark blue of his formal _changsan_ , and his silver brooch, an ornate pentacle, gleamed in the dim light.

At first, the majority of the adults' conversation was lost upon Cang Du. He cradled the box of soldiers in his lap and quietly traced his finger along the inscribed characters that he could not yet read.

"Now," Shi Hongli began, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair, "As to the nature of my visit, I believe it is high time your son began his training in the spiritual arts."

"With all due respect, most honored guest," his mother interrupted, "The child is not yet five years old."

"By that I age I had already mastered my spiritual weapon. I killed my first Hollow at age seven. That is no excuse," Shi Hongli stated flatly.

"But such talent is to be expected from a master such as yourself. Not everyone is so skilled." Meijing tried to flatter him, but her tone was quickly growing defensive. "I'm sure with the proper training his latent powers will manifest."

"Yet there is nothing to indicate the existence of these 'latent powers,' so who would be willing to teach him?" he asked. When his mother did not respond, Shi Hongli scoffed, "Surely not you, a woman." He turned accusingly towards Cang Du's father. "Cang _Lu_ , have you no interest in teaching your own son the sacred arts?"

Cang Du's father waved his hand, brushing aside the man's insistent nature. "If he has no talent, then it can't be helped," he replied casually, as if discussing the weather. His mother's faced blanched. She bit her lip and stared hard at the floor in front of her.

"Please, don't judge him so harshly. He does possess a little power," she mumbled apologetically.

"Then show us," Shi Hongli demanded. His mother looked at her son before glancing towards Cang Lu, pleading silently for her husband to intervene. His expression did not change, except for a barely perceptible curl of amusement in the corner of his mouth. Meijing nodded to herself.

"Very well." She stood and smoothed out the creases of her skirt, as though she could erase the lines between her brows. "Come," she said to Cang Du. He carefully set the box on the chair behind him, where it was soon forgotten, and followed his mother into the open courtyard. Meijing took him by the hand and bent down so they faced each other at eye-level. "You remember everything I told you, about forming your invisible bow?" she asked. His eyes widened, and he nodded. "Can you show me again now?" The softness of her tone was strained, and Cang Du looked past her to Shi Hongli and his father, and somehow grasped the gravity of his mother's situation.

Without a word he extended his hand, allowing the small iron pendant that served as the focus for his spiritual powers to dangle freely from his wrist. He concentrated on the object, and soon his arm became heavy. Motes of blue light gathered around his fingertips, swirling slowly as they emerged in midair. He frowned, his breath coming shorter and harder as he extended his will to the ambient wisps of supernatural pressure. It was a difficult task, and he began to shake. Then, he felt his mother's hands on his shoulders, steadying him, guiding him.

But then his hold over his own will faltered, and the energy in his hand burst into a thousand particles of light. The remnant energy danced through the air before it vanished entirely. His mother breathed in sharply, and he felt the tips of his ears burn with the shame of disappointing her. He looked up, hoping for an explanation of what he had done wrong.

"First-son, your father is calling you," she told him instead, and only then did he hear his father's voice. His mother pushed him towards Cang Lu.

"Can you tell me what is standing next to me?" his father asked him, his fingers laced together beneath his chin. Confusion crossed Cang Du's face. Helplessly, he looked all around him, searching for a hint of the answer he wanted to hear.

"There is nothing standing next to you, father," he answered hesitantly. Satisfied, Cang Lu leaned back in his seat easily.

"Inexcusable," Shi Hongli exclaimed. "With the noble clans on the brink of obsolescence, this… apathy towards your own progeny's spiritual development is appalling." the man's glare shifted to Cang Du's mother, who quickly cast her eyes down at her feet. "Furthermore you have allowed your wife to bear the responsibility of his training. Do you wish to toss aside the integrity of your bloodline?"

"It is none of my concern," Cang Lu answered without a hint of emotion. "The fate of the clans is dependant upon their own strength or faults, as is my son's. The weak will always submit to a greater power. You as well as I know, master Shi Hongli, that the clans have become a decrepit, aging man, much like this country itself: Plagued by imagined diseases that have been realized through ignorance." He paused to drink from his _gaiwan_ , and Cang Du noticed that Shi Hongli's face had become flushed. "That is to say, should the clans cease to exist, the question of pedigrees and bloodlines is, after all, irrelevant."

"I would advise you to remember your place, Cang Lu. You are already treading a thin line with the delegation… such words could be considered treasonous to some." Shi Hongli's voice shook with barely contained rage, but then he closed his eyes and sighed. "I believe I've overstayed my welcome," he said. He rose, bowed stiffly, and turned to leave. "You should know," he paused, and clasped his hands behind his back pensively. "…That I originally came to offer my services as an instructor for your son," he said, "But no doubt your own insolence has already poisoned his young mind." He allowed his father one last chance to redeem himself. "Farewell," the man said as he strode out into the courtyard. Meijing cast a panicked look towards Cang Du's father, but he would not be swayed.

"Wait!" she took the initiative herself and followed after the man, leaving Cang Du and his father alone.

At first neither of them said anything. He could hear the skeletal whisper of chimes in the distance, and in the stillness the sinking sun cast sideways shadows across the floor.

"Come here," he said, and Cang Du did not dare disobey. His father took his chin between his fingers and tilted his face up, staring intently into Cang Du's eyes and turning his head back and forth, as if examining a strange specimen of insect. Then he released him, having found nothing of interest. "Tell me child, can you see it now?" he asked, his tone heavy with boredom.

Again Cang Du looked desperately for whatever it was his father had wanted him to see. The wind brushed through the curtains, and the light in the room wavered. In the shadows he at last saw a pale, translucent hand resting upon his father's shoulder. He gasped and drew back. There was a man standing at his father's side. Ghostlike, he was nearly smudged from existence entirely, but Cang Du was able to follow his hand to his shoulder, up to his chest where the glint of steel revealed a chain protruding from where his heart should have been. The shadows shifted, and the apparition vanished.

"Well now, I suppose you aren't completely worthless." There was only disinterest in his voice, and Cang Du knew that, at that moment, his father ceased to see him at all.

— 鐵 —

The humidity of the day sweltered into pressing, sticky heat as the sun disappeared. The night air hummed, and it was impossible for Cang Du to sleep. Tossing and turning, he at last threw off his sheets and decided to find someplace cooler to rest.

Careful to avoid alerting his mother's sharp ears, he slipped out of his room and tiptoed through the hall. The whisper of his bare feet across the stone tiles and the incessant serenade of crickets were the only sounds as he emerged into the main courtyard. He thought he was alone, but froze when he heard the low murmuring of human voices. He ducked behind one of the pillars and waited, biting his breath and remaining as still as the stone lions that guarded the entrance to his family's estate. From the distinctive pitch and soothing timbre, he assumed one of the voices belonged to his father. Curiosity eventually won over his hesitation, and he crept closer.

"What's wrong?" his father asked in a smooth tone that Cang Du had never heard before. "Why are you suddenly refusing me now, after all these months?"

The pale moonlight that cut into the house allowed him to clearly see his father's figure and that of another pressed against one of the wooden pillars. He narrowed his eyes, and in the darkness was somehow able to see the half-invisible form of the ghost more clearly than he had before. The man's features, while pallid, were still handsome and strong, but his Soul Chain was disturbingly short.

"It's not that I…" Cang Du could hear the embarrassment in his voice. "It's just that here. Under the same roof as your… as your family," the ghost stammered. When Cang Du's father did not respond, he added, "It would not be honorable." There was a moment of silence, and Cang Du saw his father slip his hand around the ghost's neck.

"As always, your adherence to decorum is admirable. It is something I have always appreciated," he said it as though sincere, but Cang Du read the falsity in his voice and a knot of disgust formed deep within his stomach, even though he did not know what his father was referring to. "There exists no love between me and my wife. The marriage was arranged. She understands that I'm only trying to help you. You must find peace in order to pass on."

Cang Du thought of his mother. Even he was aware of how she pined for his father's love. The bitter emotion that welled up in his chest caused his ability to see the ghost to waver.

"Have you forgotten?" his father asked.

The ghost still seemed torn over whether or not he would accept Cang Lu's affections, but his eyes burned bright. Desperation. Desire.

"I have not forgotten." They leaned towards each other, tentatively fitting their mouths together, and kissed. He saw his father slide his tongue into midair, but then there was the ghost, half-translucent, masking the act, and Cang Du felt guilt alongside his interest. He should not be there.

With barely a sound, Cang Du turned back the way he had come. He carried with him the uncomfortable impression that his father had known he was there all along, and imagined his father's half-lidded eyes that smirked at some delicious secret that Cang Du had suddenly been made privy to. Heart pounding, he had to stop himself from sprinting past his mother's room. Sensing something amiss, he paused, and noticed that the door was open, barely a crack. He heard a muffled sound coming behind it. Confusion and concern were welling up inside as he gently pushed the door open.

His mother was knelt on the floor in the center of her room. She was turned away from the door, and her narrow shoulders drooped heavily with tiredness and defeat. He realized that she was crying. Softly, as if she was a ghost that would disappear at the slightest movement, he moved towards her.

"Mother." She looked up at him, tears staining her cheeks, and he saw that she held her silver hairpin between her trembling hands, clasped in her lap. She did not speak, only reached out towards him, and Cang Du allowed her to pull him into her arms. She cried into his chest and stroked his hair, rocking back and forth as she comforted herself by holding him tight.

"I love you, so much. I will always love you. No matter what happens. Always remember that."

Eventually, he fell asleep.

— 鐵 —

 _1916_

Cang Du's family estate was liquidated in the spring. A small party of men in crisp, black suits had arrived from the bank, and with a thin sheet of parchment informed Meijing and her son that her husband had agreed to sell all personal assets in order to pay for debts accrued after the fall of the Manchu government and the loss of crucial investments. The following months passed slowly. Summer withered into fall, and fall was swept away by dry winter. In the end they had been allowed to keep the house, but the December wind coursed through empty corridors devoid of human life. The rooms were stripped and bare, the servants had left, and even the flowers in the garden had died. They had been allowed a few, basic possessions necessary for the maintenance of life, and Cang Du had managed to hide some of his father's books away for himself. He now studied them on his own, when not occupied with his normal schoolwork, as they provided his only form of instruction in the spiritual arts.

One morning came gray and cold with flecks of white falling from the sky. As usual, Cang Du rose early from his threadbare mattress on the floor, stretched, and began to practice the combat exercises he had been taught. He found that, in the absence of Shi Hongli's instruction, his concentration had improved as he was determined to succeed despite his odds. Some days were harder than others, and he often found that only willpower alone would allow him to conquer his own, growing body. Today, his stiff muscles protested as he forced them into motion, and he felt sleep calling him back to the warmth of his bed. With each kick, he chipped away at the temptation until he forgot it.

Afterwards, he doused ice-cold water over his face and dressed himself in the stiff-collared, formal black _tangzhuang_ of the perceptual government school he attended. For a moment he paused as he saw himself in the cracked, round mirror above the washbasin. His thick hair hung between his eyes, which seemed to grow narrower by the day, and his jaw was tense, his mouth set in a firm, serious line. He tried to relax his features, but failed. Cang Du often felt years older than his actual age, but what was most disconcerting to him was that, day by day, the vanishing smoothness of boyhood began erase trait that he may have once shared with his mother. He resembled his father, and it unnerved him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of Yunjia rummaging through the kitchen as she prepared breakfast. She and her husband had been the only servants who had remained after the bankruptcy. He smelled steaming rice and hot sesame oil, and felt his stomach growl. Before immersing himself in his customary early-morning studies, he went to the chicken coop behind the kitchen to check for eggs. The birds themselves seemed stressed, and scattered as he approached. Peering inside the dank, dusty interior of one of the boxes, Cang Du spotted the speckled scales and black eyes of a grass snake curled around the batch of eggs, its stomach swollen by the one it had swallowed for its own meal. With certain impartiality, he reached out, his hand moving faster than the eye could see, and grabbed the snake behind its head. For a moment he hesitated, as he considered releasing the animal in the garden. But as he stared into the dark pits of the snake's eyes, his own hardened with cool pragmatism. He could probably use the snake in his studies, perhaps as a capsule for the condensed spiritual energy needed for alchemical spells.

As Cang Du turned back towards the house, he felt an electric shiver of awareness run down the length of his spine. He stopped. Extending his senses, he felt a certain spiritual presence layered within the atmosphere. It was distant and barely perceptible, and he wondered why he had noticed it at all when, suddenly, he recognized whom the aura belonged to. It was his father. Evidentially he had returned to Beijing, and his presence could be sensed coming from the south. Cang Du hesitated only an instant before he willed himself to ignore it. After all, his father had cast his mother and him aside without a second though, and he was only returning the favor.

However, when he later joined Yunjia and her husband at the table for breakfast, his mother was missing.

"Where is my mother?" he asked as He watched as Yunjia's gnarled hands dipped into the rice bucket. She carefully portioned out a serving for him, her husband and herself before answering.

"She said she had no appetite this morning when I went to wake her." Cang Du frowned. He took one bite of rice, and the food tasted like ash to him. After a moment's deliberation, he stood and left the table without even tasting the rest of the food.

He found his mother in her room, awake and brushing her long, silk-smooth hair. She stared into the distance and did not seem to hear him when he entered the room. Her gaze was focused on the silver hairpin on the table in front of her. For the first time he examined the object more closely, wondering what exactly it was that drew his mother to it. With two thick prongs adorned with a delicate pair of doves at its base, their wings spread in iron flight, set above a cluster of day lilies, it was a pretty thing, to be sure, but disappointingly ordinary. He sensed that it was more fragile than it appeared.

"Your father gave this to me on our wedding day," his mother said wistfully, as though aware that he had been there all along. "And I thought, then, that perhaps he…" She shook her head.

"He is here." Cang Du felt obligated to tell her.

"I know. I was always able to sense him." She turned towards him, and he saw that her eyes were bright with unshed tears. His mother reached for his hand, and he allowed her to take it. "He won't come," the corners of her sad smile turned down as she struggled to maintain her composure. "But I don't mind anymore." She lied. "I have you."

— 鐵 —

It was not hard to track his father through the tangled mass of three million Soul Ribbons that was Beijing. Those with supernatural powers stood out above the common rabble of spiritually blind humans, like beacons that shone in the crowded city. His path originally led him past the entrance to his school, and he paused before its high stone gate. If he turned aside now it would be a normal day. He would attend classes, deliver the evening papers through the foreign district on his route home, return to his studies, and forget that his father existed at all. His mother's words echoed in his mind, and the next instant he took to the sky.

Sliding his feet along the currents of spiritual energy coursing through the air, Cang Du soared over faded rooftops and climbed to the level of the clouds. While it was reckless to use his abilities in broad daylight, he doubted anyone would be able to see him from his position. Far above the streets, he followed the snaking green thread of the river past the Forbidden City, the golden roofs of the immense compound rising above the dust of the surrounding buildings, and crossed the market districts. As the sun rose higher into the snow-swept sky, the immensity of the city began to impress upon him. He turned his steps towards the south railway terminal, where his father had no doubt just arrived.

Cang Du found his father exiting a two-story teahouse with a crowd of business associates flocking around him. He was not surprised to discover that one of the men was even Japanese, and less surprised as he clung to his father's arm in a coy, suggestive manner. Apparently unaffected by the bankruptcy of his estate, Cang Lu's _changshan_ was as elaborate as he ever remembered it. He walked with entitled grace, swinging a black cane from his wrist and trading banter with the other men. They squeezed through a narrow _hutong_ before entering a wide plaza, and Cang Du swallowed his reservations as he willed himself to step out directly.

"Cang Lu!" The voice that called out was not his own, and Cang Du jumped back, startled.

Shi Hongli, in his solemn, long robes, swept out and approached his father from the opposite end of the plaza. Dust swirled in his wake, and he too was surrounded by a small party of men. Quincy, Cang Du noted, just like him and his father.

"Master Shi Hongli, what a pleasant surprise, I did not expect to see you so soon after setting foot in Beijing."

"Trust me, this will be the furthest thing from pleasant," Shi Hongli snapped. Cang Du had not seen his former teacher since spring, when his family's status had been revoked and Shi Hongli had refused to associate with them. He realized with sudden clarity of perspective how worn and weary the man now looked when compared to his father's eternal youth.

"May I ask what the occasion is?" Cang Lu asked.

"I believe you are already aware of the circumstances you are in. The slight you committed in betraying the delegation is one not that is quickly forgotten."

"I was under the impression that my affairs with the delegation had already been resolved." His father's voice hardened to ice. "Unless you mean to say that you're here on personal business."

For a moment they paused, as if each were attempting to stare the other down. At last Shi Hongli swept his robe to the side, revealing a short, straight-edged _jian_ , which he pulled from the scabbard expertly. The blade hummed in the crisp air, and he leveled it at Cang Lu's chest.

"Let's drop the pretense of civility and get straight down to business," he said.

"As direct as always I see. You really have no notion of what foreplay is, do you?" Cang Lu smiled—he was always smiling—and motioned for those around him to step aside. They cleared a space around the two men, hedging them in a tight arena.

Cang Du realized that he was about to witness a clash between two masters. He could personally testify to Shi Hongli's skill, recalling the various times he had suffered the man's blows in their practice sessions, and while he had never seen his father fight, there was nothing to suggest that he was weak.

With a yell Shi Hongli lunged forwards.

It was over in an instant.

Shi Hongli vanished with a ripple across the canvas of the air. His father did not move at first, but when he calmly raised his hand he had caught Shi Hongli's sword by the flat of the blade, forcing the master into visible existence. He curled his fingers up in a hook and drove the flat of his palm into the center of the older man's chest. A wall of concentrated pressure bent according to his will, slamming into Shi Hongli in a singular point. The man stumbled back, regained his footing, and struck again. But by then Cang Lu had drawn the sword concealed in his cane. There was a flash of steel turning through the air, metal struck metal, and for a moment both opponents seemed caught in the momentum of the strike. Cang Lu blurred, and with one, sweeping motion, cut deeply into Shi Hongli's throat. Blue veins of light pulsated across the man's skin, but his spiritual defenses had not been able to spare him from the hardened, physical steel of Cang Lu's blade. By the time he collapsed onto the pavement, Shi Hongli was dead.

Cang Lu flicked the blood from the edge of his blade, studied it a moment, then drew out a white kerchief and ran it over the sword before replacing it in its scabbard. His movements had been supple and gliding, as flexible as a snake. Cang Du had formerly had every intention of confronting his father, but now he felt a chill settle in his core. His father had murdered Shi Hongli—his former master, and now stood casually observing as Shi Hongli's shocked followers rushed to attend the decapitated corpse.

And he turned, glancing over his shoulder in Cang Du's direction, the smirk of his half-lidded eyes suggesting he had known that he had been there the entire time.

— 鐵 —

 _1920_

The morning was quiet, subdued. Sheets of gray blanketed the sky, muting the sound of the first few, light drops of rain that landed on the stone courtyard. Meijing stood quietly, her hands clasped anxiously in front of her, staring at the chimes that hung from the eaves as she felt her husband approach their home. He was here, but she did not allow herself to hope. Never for herself, at least.

His presence came slowly, unhurriedly, down the alley that led to their home. He paused in front of the threshold, and then he entered. Meijing straightened up subconsciously, lifting her chin just slightly in the ingrained habit of attempting to catch her husband's notice. He emerged into the main courtyard, hands folded in his sleeves, examining the house around him with detached curiosity, as though he were examining a series of relics at a museum. Meijing's breath stalled in her throat. He was alone. No group of politicians or businessmen or delegates accompanied him, no male partner walked by his side. Her heart stirred, just slightly, but she quickly pushed down any notion that he might actually look upon her.

"Welcome home, honorable husband," she spoke meekly, demurely, practicing all of the traditional affectations assigned to her role as a proper wife with bound feet. Was that not what he wanted? Was that not what all men wanted from their wives?

Cang Lu stopped, looked at her from across the courtyard, and smiled.

"Hello Meijing," he said. Again her heart began to beat fast in her chest, although she willed herself to breath calmly. She was no longer a young girl, easily caught up in heady romance. She was a woman. A mother. There were lines around the corners of her eyes and mouth. She was no longer as beautiful as she once was. No longer desirable. She had nothing to offer him, and knew he would spurn her as he always did. But her heart pounded on, nonetheless.

"It has been a long time since I set foot in Beijing," Cang Lu continued easily. "And our son?"

 _Our son?_

"Our" did not exist in her husband's vocabulary. It suggested possession, a sense of ownership, and, most notably, it was mutual. To Cang Lu, either something was his, or it was nothing it all to him. "Ours" was a foreign concept, she knew that much. How long had she sat by idly and observed him, hoping to catch the briefest of insights into his mind, his personality, his soul?

"He is…" she stammered, her guards and defenses dropping away despite everything she did to keep them up, to shield herself from inevitable pain.

"So, we're alone then?" Cang Lu drifted closer, until they were standing face to face. Meijing's mouth parted as though she would speak, but at first no words came.

"Yes," she murmured. "Yes we are alone," and her hand reached unconsciously to finger the hairpin she still wore through her dark hair.

"I understand the past few years must have been difficult for you, especially in my absence." Cang Lu continued, and he reached out his hand, "You've weathered such changes well, to still wear such finery." Meijing felt her face burn. Was her husband… seducing her?

"It was a gift from a generous benefactor… long ago," she answered, playing along. He touched the side of her face, and Meijing nearly shuddered from the sensation. She could not remember the last time they had made physical contact, and now it was extended to her voluntarily.

"And does this 'generous benefactor' hold designs upon my wife?" he asked, with a smile in the corner of his mouth.

"I… I thought he had lost all interest in me," she whispered as she fought back welling tears. Cang Lu leaned closer, and Meijing stood perfectly still. If she reached out to touch him, he would vanish before her eyes, a fleeting apparition.

"Appearances can be deceiving," he whispered in turn, and he held her chin in his hand, gently, before he reached behind her neck, as though to pull her close. Meijing closed her eyes, sure that she was dreaming. She felt his breath on her skin, but his smirk would never reach her lips. Instead he ran his fingers run through her hair before, without warning, he slipped the hairpin out from behind her ear.

Her eyes flew open and her face paled, and she took a step back. Cang Lu was studying the delicate piece of jewelry with the same, detached expression he always held when he looked upon Meijing.

"Such a pretty, delicate thing. Yet, disappointingly ordinary."

The hairpin had been his first gift to her, given on their wedding day, and because it had been sheer, extravagant excess she had believed it to be the only one given in sincerity. She had clung to it, worn it everyday, to remind herself that once Cang Lu had considered her, had looked upon her with something more than veiled disinterest, had held her even. The first and only time his bare skin had pressed against her own. The first and only time he had kissed her. Loved her.

"I'm sure you know what this means, Meijing," his voice had turned cold as he began to slip away from her. "Our marriage—" he said, using 'our' once more; why was he using that word again? "Is annulled."

Numb, emotionless, she watched him walk away, this time forever. She had always chased after him, reached for him futilely as if grasping for a fleeting image of his turned back at the end of a dark, shrinking tunnel. Now that tunnel had sealed off completely, leaving her in darkness. And she knew he was gone.

Meijing wailed as she fell to her knees. One, desperate, hopeless cry.

— 鐵 —

It was raining by the time Cang Du returned home. He moved quickly, as he was tired, hungry, irritable, and preoccupied as he ducked through the front door of their home.

Like hitting a wall, he collided with the sensation of a spiritual presence far greater than his own. Cang Du stopped and turned his head to one side, listening to the constant rhythm of the rain. His father had been there. After four years he had been there. Cang Du felt the muscles in his jaw tighten as he clenched his hands into fists. He strode through the main courtyard with purpose, intending to question his mother about his father's whereabouts. The rain blurred his senses, creating a hazy image of the spiritual world, but he shrugged the heaviness away and stepped inside. The house strangely silent, the only sound the muted downpour on the tile roof.

"Mother," he called out, his voice strained and hollow, echoing off stone floors and bare walls. There was no reply, and at once an overwhelming emptiness rushed over him. He called out to her again, then, with sudden urgency, went to find her himself. He knew where she was, but paused before the door to her room, remembering the first time he had found her in the same way years ago, when he had first learned of pain, of betrayal. The door was open, barely a crack, and Cang Du reached out and pushed it open.

His mother was lying on the floor, her hair spread out to one side like a crushed veil. Her eyes were open, dark, and staring up at the ceiling with eerie intensity, and her skin was altogether much too pale. She was as still as death.

"Mother," he asked tentatively, praying silently against the worst. He knelt by her side, reached out and felt for her pulse. Her skin was cool to the touch, but her heart was beating. He wrapped her in his arms then, cradling her head against his chest. His mother moaned quietly once. Her breath was heavy, sour, and much too sweet. Cang Du realized that black liquid was seeping from the corner of her mouth.

"What happened?" he demanded. Her head lolled back against his arm, but she made no response. Cang Du's gaze darted across the room, and he saw his mother's small, wood medicine chest, lying overturned on its side in the corner. He reached for a small, empty bottle and sniffed at its former contents, grimacing. Poison. "Who did this to you?"

Her eyelids fluttered, weakly, and she reached up to stroke his cheek, finding it wet with tears Cang Du himself had been unaware of.

"I love you so, very much." He caught her hand in his own. "Always remember that."

"Don't say such things mother." His voice was thick as he fought to speak around the welt in his throat. "You can't leave yet."

She smiled before her eyes drifted closed, and did not hear him as he called out to her again and again.

— 鐵 —

"Cang Lu!" his own voice rang out this time, strong and resolute, and thunder clapped across the sky a second later. His father stopped, although his back was still turned. Cang Du had found him wandering the political district, not far from their family home. The downpour had driven all human life from the wide paved streets, and they were deserted except for Cang Du and his father. The sky was gray. The rain was gray. The stone facades of the buildings around them were gray, and Cang Lu stood out amongst it all, a splash of color in the gaunt world.

"To address your father by his full name," Cang Lu laughed, "Does this mean you've finally grown a spine?" He turned, hands tucked into his sleeves, and Cang Du felt himself stiffen, even though his father's expression had not changed. Images of Shi Hongli's bright blood as his head fell flashed through his mind, but he steeled himself. He was stronger than he had ever been, stronger than Shi Hongli had ever been. Still, when he looked at his father he had the uncanny sensation that he was staring into the gaping jaws of a venomous snake: His own fate looming before him.

He felt pinpricks of raw, instinctual fear run across the surface of his skin.

"I suppose you are here because of Meijing," his father continued.

"She poisoned herself. After you left." Cang Du's voice was thick with suppressed emotion, but he stated it bluntly. "What did you do to her?" The smile in the corner of his father's mouth faltered.

"Ah." Cang Lu looked up at the rain, as though he had forgotten a minor detail he could not call to mind. "She must have been upset when I took this," he said, and removed an object from his sleeve. Cang Du's eyes narrowed, and through the pouring rain he saw the delicate metalwork, the tiny spread wings and fragile flowers. It was his mother's hairpin.

"It's a shame, really, that a person's entire existence should be bound up by such a small thing. Love. Hatred. Envy," Cang Lu tapped the hairpin on his lips, which did little to conceal his smirk. "In the end, all emotions are promises that are easily broken. Messy, capricious affairs."

"Give it back," Cang Du demanded, his voice dragging out across cut stone.

"I'm afraid that's no longer possible. Whatever fragile bond held me to your mother has been severed completely. No, I cannot return anything to her; there was nothing to give in the first place. But…" he shifted his weight to center himself, spreading out his feet and extending the hairpin as though it were a sword. "I can give it to you."

The challenge in his voice was clear. For an instant, hidden lightning illuminated the clouds above them with soft, diffused light. Thunder answered a few moments later, and the rain, frigid and hard, began to fall in earnest. It pelted down on Cang Du's shoulders, plastering his clothes and hair to his skin and nearly blinding him. He ignored it completely as he answered his father's challenge, widening his stance and clenching his fists. He could sense his father's spiritual presence, close, palpable, and dangerous. The atmosphere was thick with murderous intent, and the rain did little to dull its sharp edge. Never before had he felt such fear. It gripped him by the throat, settling into his muscles like a coiled spring even as he willed it to the back of his mind. _I am going to die_. He acknowledged with finality, even as he called forth his spiritual weapon. There was a brief glow of blue energy, centered around his wrists, and a moment later three claw-like blades on each hand shimmered into existence. He leveled his left hand at his father while he drew back his right, preparing to strike.

"Ah yes. Soul-synthesized silver. It seems you are not entirely without talent after all, and such a murderous look in your eyes." Cang Lu was clearly mocking him, but his eyes narrowed even further as he met his son's threat evenly. "But before you try to kill me you should tell me one thing: Why are you so determined? It is only a hairpin. A pretty thing perhaps, but common, ordinary, easily replaceable."

"Things that spent their lives together should remain together in death. That is my belief."

"Ah, monism?"

"Dualism," Cang Du corrected.

"Fascinating. A shame we could not have philosophized together on the theory. I hope that you've at had enough time to prepare yourself for what comes after death."

"Go to hell."

Cang Du emerged in the air above his father, having closed the distance between them faster than the eye could see. His form was perfect, his body curled over with unreleased power as he allowed his momentum to pull him down towards his father. He drove his claws towards Cang Lu's throat, and felt as though invisible lines of energy extended and connected him with his target. He knew with certainty that he would not miss.

It was over in an instant.

Cang Lu stepped to the side lightly, allowing his son's strike to carry him through midair. Then, raising his hand above his head, he held the hairpin up, and it glinted as delicate droplets of water were flung from its tip. Cang Du's eyes widened. In the next instant, the hairpin blurred with the motion of his father's downward strike.

If he had wanted to, his father could have killed him in an instant. For some reason that fact did not surprise him, and he accepted it with distinct passivity.

Searing pain cut across the corner of Cang Du's mouth as a blade of energy, meant to slice through his skull, drove him into the ground. He did not remember the impact, only that one second he was staring at his father's white, gleaming teeth through his wide grin, and that the next he was staring at a small pool of his own blood. The rough texture of the pavement where his head lay was strangely detailed, sharp and jagged as the world spun beneath him. His claws had disappeared, and he found that he could not move.

"Did you… at least love her?" he managed to gasp as his father turned to leave.

For once Cang Lu's smile vanished completely, his expression became blank, and it was a long time before he answered.

"I will admit that perhaps at one time I was attracted to her. Perhaps I pitied her even. But I never loved her. And you and I are cut from the same cloth, are we not?" Cang Lu stared up at the sky, never turning to look at him. "Let me tell you the secret to strength, since you seem to be so painfully lacking in it. Strength is contrast. To destroy that is to become nothing. But you are already aware of that, aren't you? Reliance, love, is weakness. If you lack determination—the will to succeed, you will die. But a will that is iron… that is strength."

Cang Du watched the image of his father fade into the distance for the last time, swallowed by the silver haze of the rain. It was only after he had disappeared entirely that Cang Du realized he had left something lying a short, unreachable distance from his fingertips. Through his shrinking vision he saw his mother's hairpin, and noted calmly that one of its prongs had snapped in half.

It was fitting, he thought, that it should be broken.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

~While this story features Cang Du, the only elements taken directly from his canonical character are his spiritual weapon, the fact that he has a scar, and the line _"those who spent their lives together should remain together in death."_

~The Chinese character used for the scene breaks, 鐵 ( _t_ _iě_ ), means "iron"

~When Meijing says that Cang Du is "not yet five years old" Cang Du is actually four years old, as his age was given in Chinese years.

~The design of Meijing's hairpin is symbolic. In China, the day lily represents childbearing and is associated with transience and foot binding. The doves symbolize fidelity and are also revered for taking care of their young.

~While Cang Lu is homosexual and is portrayed in a negative light, this story is not meant to be anti-homosexual in any way, and no offense was intended. The element was included to explain why Cang Du later becomes conflicted over his own sexuality, as he himself is homosexual, although that aspect is not present in this story.


End file.
